


Bad Girls

by TheShinySword



Series: Not a Gal, Not a Pal (Transdori Week 2020) [2]
Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Chisato: Flirtatious Pronoun Experimentation, Copious flirting, Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, Makeouts, Mentions of Sex, Non-binary character, kabedon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShinySword/pseuds/TheShinySword
Summary: Chisato wants to know all the parts of Moca, even the parts Moca won't think about.
Relationships: Aoba Moca/Shirasagi Chisato
Series: Not a Gal, Not a Pal (Transdori Week 2020) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933525
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78
Collections: Transdori Week 2020





	Bad Girls

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 and I'm already breaking the prompts. I didn't like day 2's so I'm using Gender Euphoria from day 4!
> 
> CW: Unintentional Misgendering, Self Misgendering

A train car was hardly the proper place to examine the binding legal document about to dictate the next decade of her life but Chisato was so restrained in most aspects of her day to day that she could forgive herself the inability to delay her sentencing any longer. As soon as she entered the car—as inconspicuous as a neon sign reading “I am a celebrity get me out of here” in her wide lens sunglasses, face conforming medical mask and a baseball cap that did not belong to her reading “Bangers Only”— she tucked herself into the corner between the wall and the edge of a handicapped seat and slipped the hundred page thick document from the manilla envelope clutched to her chest.

At least the only harm was to her psyche. There was nothing hidden in those pages to surprise Chisato, only confirmation after confirmation that her 20s would pass the same way as her teens. Well, there was one slight adjustment. She still couldn’t publicly disclose any relationship she was in (the contract never went so far as to _forbid_ a relationship—though she knew full well what they preferred) but now that restriction would magically go away… if she were to get married.

All for the best, Chisato wasn’t really interested in broadcasting her personal business anyway. So she assured herself, as she carefully flipped through the legalese she’d have to read five times over to understand. It was a waste of time—she was going to sign no matter what and every suit in that blasted agency knew it—but it felt good to entertain the fantasy that she might tear it all up and run off to… well that was where the fantasy always fell apart, wasn’t it?

At least Pastel*Palettes still had another year or two left to sag along the billboard charts before their life support was cut. Their numbers were beginning to dip, as numbers always inevitably did, and it was clear they were no longer the idols of the moment. There were new girls—younger girls. The part of her left unspoiled by the entertainment industry—small as it was—recoiled at the idea that at age 21 she was already too old for the tastes of some grown men. But the rest of her knew that was the way of the world. PasuPare still had their loyal fans though they were the ones that unfathomably counted for less: the girls and the gays.

That was the problem though, wasn’t it? Their inevitable disbandment would owe no small part to the fact that Pastel*Palettes was a gay time bomb ticking down to an explosion of neon glitter. The agency surely never intended to throw together a band made of two lesbians, two bisexuals and whatever it was Hina decided to be that day but apparently the message was read loud and clear in gay bars across Japan. The PasuPare Revolution was rainbow themed.

And that just wasn’t enough. In a few years their songs would be nostalgia fodder for fans to sing at karaoke and the band name nothing but a trivia bullet on Chisato’s bio.

Chisato sighed and carefully replaced the document inside its folder. No sense in getting worked up about the future. She worked hard to keep that in mind. She tucked the folder inside her purse and looked around at the thinning train crowd—

Just as the train began to pull away from her stop.

She burst out of the corner and to the door, well aware of the futility of her actions. The door was already closed, the train was already leaving but she still beat an aggravated fist against the window and collapsed with an embarrassed sigh against it. At least she was unrecognizable.

“Hey pretty lady, come here often?”

Supposedly.

“Moca?” Chisato said as if anyone else could possibly be standing in front of her with the olive bomber jacket Chisato gave her girlfriend last Christmas thrown over a tank top and pushed up to her elbows like Moca was trying to wear the greatest hits of all seasons at once. “What are you doing here?”

Moca swayed in place with the easy rock of the train, lips curled in a lazy smile. She stretched out her arm in the sort of casual manner that could be mistaken as a simple brace against the door if it weren’t for how she winked as she drew closer to Chisato.

Chisato’s breath caught at the way Moca’s forearm flexed just over her head and how her body blocked the rest of the train from sight. Moca was hardly strong enough to pin Chisato to any surface that wasn’t horizontal—she was getting better at _that_ at least—but in that moment Chisato got “it”. Suddenly, they were alone on the very busy train. Just Chisato and Moca’s blue eyes.

Those eyes were everything Moca wasn’t: protective, possessive, assertive. At least everything Moca pretended not to be. But Chisato knew her better than that. Moca was never going to barrel into a contract negotiation shouting down the producers and defending Chisato’s honor but she’d burn down their houses and make it look like an accident if she could get away with it. Maybe if she couldn’t too.

It was really fucking hard not to kiss her when she looked at Chisato like that.

Moca chuckled before speaking in that slow, relaxed drawl of hers. “I’m coming to see you, remember?”

“You missed your stop.”

“Can’t see you if you’re not there.”

Chisato shoved Moca’s shoulder with a playful push. “You could have told me we were at my stop.”

“You’re too cute to correct.” Her fingers flexed and curled against the laminated glass window. “Besides, Moca got distracted too.”

“Flatterer,” Chisato muttered and turned her head away. The small smile on her face proved Moca’s success. “But I’m afraid I’ll be poor company tonight. I have to go over my new contract.”

“S’alright.” Moca shrugged in that appealingly easy way of hers. “Moca’s got a lot of reading they’ve been putting off doing. I’ll just chill.”

Chisato looked to Moca with a small, curious frown. “Are you using they and them now?” She’d hoped, vainly perhaps, that after the initial revelation Moca would confide more in Chisato. But that was the selfish sort of wish one kept inside.

Moca’s eyes drifted up to the top of the door and whatever ad danced on screen there. “Eh,” she grunted noncommittally. “Just trying it out.”

“Should I use ‘they’ for you?

Moca remained fixed on the screen above. “If you want.”

It was very possible that Moca was the love of Chisato’s life but that didn’t mean she couldn’t infuriate Chisato regardless. So Moca was non-binary. Great. Fantastic. But what did that mean in a practical sense? Chisato didn’t expect Moca to have answers but her reluctance to have an opinion on the subject was testing the limits of Chisato’s patience.

Chisato grabbed the cloth collar of Moca’s jacket and straightened with a touch more force than she needed. “What do you want me to do?”

The train jerked. Moca used the rocking as a cover to let her head fall close to Chisato’s ear, hair tickling the edge, so she could whisper with a low chuckle, “I want you to call me whatever you want.”

Before Chisato could respond, the train doors slid open behind them and Moca nudged her out onto the waiting platform.

* * *

By the time they’d caught a train headed the opposite direction and stopped for Moca to pick up a few snacks and then a second time for her to pick up the snacks she forgot the first time, Chisato had completely forgotten any frustration she’d felt on the train. It was such a nice summer’s day, just cool enough to almost be mistaken for spring but sunny and blue enough to be unmistakably summer.

Still, Chisato was happy to arrive at her apartment building: a thin nondescript building set snugly between a laundromat and a convenience store. The realtor bragged that it was a college student’s dream and though that did very little for Chisato it was certainly a boon for her roommate: Kanon. Their second story apartment overlooked very little of any interest, just another competing convenience store and a tiny patch of park. Chisato loved it. It wasn’t special at all but every time Chisato pulled her keys from her purse and opened the door her heart swelled with the pride that it was theirs. At least to rent.

Moca made herself at home while Chisato disappeared to shed off the trappings of her job. She didn’t have a literal uniform to wear every day but the layers of makeup and tights and pinching shoes and cinched waists made up a different sort of uniform. One she was happy to be rid of.

Her shoulders relaxed for the first time all day as she entered her room. It was a small space, even smaller than her childhood bedroom, but it was hers in the entirety. Every piece of furniture (of which there were four: a bed, a nightstand, a dresser and a vanity) had been picked out by her own hands and dragged up the stairs by Afterglow’s. At their own insistence.

She snagged a makeup wipe from the vanity—a heavy wooden beast that had taken all of Afterglow the better part of an hour to carry with Tomoe on one side and the other four struggling to match her on the other—and washed the day away from her face, discarding the lopsided mask in the trash. Chisato’s reflection watched her from the corner of her eye. She tried not to look at her natural face directly if she wasn’t touching it up, if only to keep her mother’s voice from whispering nonsense about men and expectations in her ear. What did Chisato care for men or their expectations? At least not in her own home when the only company was Moca.

Moca wasn’t a man. That was something Chisato loved very much about her. She wasn’t a woman either, some distant part of Chisato’s brain reminded her as Chisato unbuttoned and hung up her blouse. It wasn’t really Chisato’s place to have an opinion on that. Her fingers hesitated over the clasp of her bra before she remembered she had a hundred or so pages of contract to review and flung the elastic annoyance into a corner. She threw on one of the many t-shirts Moca accidentally/on purpose left behind every weekend and, now stripped down to her laziest elements, joined Moca in the living room.

The living room was mostly Kanon’s domain, at least in taste. The roommates spent a few weekends drifting through flea markets and discount furniture stores together but Chisato always deferred to Kanon’s style and she was glad for it. The result was a room eternally warm and cozy, like a cabin in the woods in the middle of Tokyo. They even had their own needy silver cat—though she was a little large for a lap and more fond of bread than could possibly be healthy.  
Moca looked up from her phone with a sleepy grin, curled up in Kanon’s favorite chair with her legs tucked under her body. The chair was a large plush armchair with red upholstery and enough room for a person to spread out comfortably or for two to get cozy. Moca mostly chose the former. Like a liquid Moca always fit her container.

“What happened to reading?” Chisato chuckled as she pulled the folder from her purse and settled onto the couch, sinking between a fluffy pair of custom made bear and penguin throw pillows.

“I am.” She waggled the phone back and forth. “Moca’s got books on th—her phone~. _War and Peace_ as it was meant to be read.”

Chisato glared at the shelf stuffed with thick books immediately adjacent to the chair. “There’s a copy directly to your right.”

“Moca can’t reach.” Moca pawed pathetically at the air—hand unable to escape the width of the chair. “It’s too faaar.”

“Tragic.” Chisato smirked behind her paperwork and dug in.

Legal paperwork wasn’t particularly hard to understand but like any foreign language it had to be translated and translation was always slow work. Twenty minutes to untangle a clause on skirt length, thirty minutes to comprehend a subsection on off hours social media and ten more years of willing restrictions rolling out before her. At least she could distract herself from the humdrum of contracts by peeking over the top of the papers to watch Moca read with her knees propped over the side of the chair and her free hand clutched to her chest. She didn’t know how to sit in a chair properly and Chisato was in no hurry to teach her.

Eventually, as the pile of unread paper began to thin, Chisato looked up to find Moca looking back. “Moca?”

She grinned sheepishly. “Just thinking about how hot you’d look in glasses.”

Chisato lightly snorted, “If you wait a few decades you’ll get your wish. Both my parents went nearsighted.”

“So if Moca just waits it out they—she’ll get the sexy glasses MILF of her dreams.”

“You’ll only be disappointed if you’re waiting for me to have children,” Chisato tried to keep her voice light, even a little flirty, and keep her mother’s voice from chiming in.

“Don’t need kids to be a MILF. You got that proto-MILF energy baby!”

“Am I flattered? I can’t decide,” Chisato shuffled the rest of her papers and waved them at Moca. “Now shoo.”

But Moca was bored and had a sixth sense for when Chisato’s willpower was about to break down. She turned over in the armchair, slumping down so her legs jutted over the edge of the seat. “Shouldn’t you have a lawyer look that over for you?”

“I should and I do but—” Chisato shuffled through the papers, holding her place with her thumb until she found the one she was looking for—“subsection 12e. Legal counsel is provided by the agency.” She gently slapped the pile of papers against her lap with a whap, “And so I read it myself.”

“That tv law degree’s gotta count for something~!”

Chisato smiled, thinking of her odd childhood spent memorizing legal terms for the kid lawyer show she gave up a normal life for. Moca had a way of making her feel that if the things she regretted got her where she was, they were worth something. “I was eight.”

“And you were the best damn eight year old pretending to be a lawyer on primetime! Ho ho~.” Moca melted into the chair with her laugh.

“Read your book,” She chided fondly.

Moca languidly stretched up her arms with a massive yawn. “Moca’s aaaaall done.”

“You’ve read all one thousand two hundred and twenty five pages of _War and Peace_?” Her eyebrow cocked in a perfect arc.

“I read a summary of all one thousand two hundred and twenty five pages.”

Chisato sat up perfectly rigid. “Moca Aboa. You are not reading the Sparknotes version of my favorite book.”

“Please,” Moca’s smile twitched mischievously, “It’s Cliffnotes.”

Chisato marched across the room with a glower and grabbed her massive hard copy of _War and Peace_ from the shelf. She shoved it, along with the rest of her body, into Moca’s hands. Bracing herself on the arms of the chair, Chisato loomed over Moca like a literary avenging angel brandishing Tolstoy’s masterpiece like a club.

Moca shrunk back against the chair and tried hard to play the part of a cowering repenter but her face couldn’t keep from delightfully reveling at the turn of events.

Chisato pressed her knee into the cushion between Moca’s legs. “Read a book.”

“Moca reads plenty of books.”

“Without pictures.”

“Heh, you caught Moca.” Moca raised her hands, palms flat letting her phone slip harmlessly onto the cushion below. “Make me.”

Before her brain caught on, Chisato’s body knew it wasn’t an invitation to start a book club. Her lips were already poised just above Moca’s when Chisato realized she wasn’t going to finish looking over the contract that night.

Moca kissed her. The book tumbled from Chisato’s hands with a terrible thundering thud that probably dented the floorboards enough to lose the deposit but Chisato just couldn’t bother caring. Her hands squeezed between the back of Moca’s neck and the chair as her other knee pulled onto the cushion and she settled onto Moca’s lap.

The armchair creaked but stayed stable as Moca framed Chisato’s face with her hands, gingerly clasping her cheeks as Moca’s tongue danced over her lips.

Chisato gasped a little, pulling away and nuzzling her nose along Moca’s jawline as she fought to catch her breath. “We’re supposed to be working.”

“Yup,” Moca chuckled. The warm vibrations of her throat tickled Chisato’s ears. Her hands spindled down Chisato’s spine, pressing against the small of her back to bring them closer together. She nipped at Chisato’s lower lip. “I’m a baaad influence on you~.”

Chisato let herself be pulled along, even jerked their hips closer together. It was so easy to get wrapped up in Moca—to be so lost in her everything that the expectations of the world disappeared. “Oh?” Chisato purred. “So Moca’s a bad girl?”

Immediately, the arms wrapped around Chisato turned into planks of wood—unbending and brittle. Moca’s hands fell from her waist, dully landing on the cushion. Chisato pulled back. She leaned in, cupping her girlfriend’s face and searching for the cause. The thin line of Moca’s smile worried her. It had to be something Chisato said.

“Bad girl”? But it was hardly the first time Chisato had used that phrase and she’d been asked to say much worse. That’s why they had signals and phrases at the ready. Why would the word “bad” suddenly hold so much— ah.

Not “bad”.

_“Girl”._

“Moca,” Chisato tenderly led Moca’s face forward, tilting her chin up. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing.” Moca squirmed, head falling out of Chisato’s hand and tilting to the side. “I’m not a girl—b-but— I’m being silly, it’s just a phrase it doesn’t matter.”

“What should I say instead?”

“It’s not important.”

Calling something that mattered to Moca unimportant infuriated Chisato, even when Moca was the one doing it. She wrenched Moca’s face forward and decided to try something. “Bad boy.”

Moca’s startled expression ticked into a smile. “Nah.”

“Bad person.”

Moca considered it then shook her head with a laugh. “That makes me feel like a criminal!”

“Well then,” Chisato nipped the tip of Moca’s ear. “How about ‘bad’? Bad little Moca.”

Moca slapped her hand over her mouth as a very pleased blush invaded her cheeks. “Y-yeah. That works.”

In five minutes with a little flirting Chisato had gotten more out of Moca regarding her preferences than she had in two weeks. A plan blossomed in her mind. “Will bad little Moca join me in my bedroom?”

With a grin and a wink Moca said, “Bad little Moca will do literally anything you say right now.”

* * *

Moca flopped down on Chisato’s bed with a little bounce, pushing up on her elbows with a wicked little smirk as her white tank top rose up. Moca played almost everything close to the chest—almost. She’d never bothered to hide how much she wanted Chisato. From that day two years ago when she persuaded Chisato to give Moca the length of one block to win her over. Moca never wavered.

There was a special spark in Moca’s eyes reserved for Chisato. That special wonder. Even in a baggy t-shirt with no bra and no makeup. What a fool her Moca was.

Chisato knelt beside Moca on the mattress, easing herself over Moca. She kissed Moca’s forehead just before pushing Moca flat onto the bed with a palm splayed across the exposed portion of her chest. Chisato hovered above Moca’s face and whispered, “What should I call you?”

“M-Moca?” Moca gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“You’re not my girlfriend.” Chisato raised her palm so only the pads of her fingers remained on Moca’s skin. She trailed them down. “You’re certainly not my boyfriend. So what should I call you?”

Moca bit her lower lip and turned her head to the side.

With a kiss to her jaw, Chisato gently coaxed Moca to turn back. “Green, yellow, red. Remember?” Their safety signals, basic but functional.

“For this?” Moca muttered incredulously.

“Even this.”

Chisato waited for a response, a little worried she might have pushed too far too fast until Moca finally said, “Green. And… partner.”

“Partner,” Chisato repeated.

“Eh heh. Like business partner! Ha. Or like we’re cowboys. Yer mah pardner!” Moca joked, flinging space between her and a moment of sincerity.

Chisato just kissed Moca’s temple and smoothed back her hair. “I like it. You share my life. I share yours. We’re partners.”

“Yeah,” Moca murmured, mortified but pleased.

“Alright, next—”

“Next?!” Moca rolled out from underneath Chisato with her mouth agape.

“I have a list in my head,” Chisato settled beside her, bodies aligned.

Her eyes narrowed but Moca’s arm wrapped around Chisato’s waist and half dragged her into her lap. “Are we gonna have sex or is this just sexy pronoun foreplay?”

“Depends on if you answer. Color check?”

“…Green.” Moca nuzzled into Chisato’s nape.

“Is it alright if you’re in a group and someone refers to you as girls?”

Tingles ran up Chisato’s neck as Moca blew hot air on her sensitive skin. “That’s cool.”

“Really?” Chisato’s voice rose on the question.

“Mm, law of averages and all, s’not about me.”

“Guys?”

“Sure.”

“Dude.”

Moca snorted, the blast of air chilling Chisato again. “Please never call me dude. Not for any gender reason it just sounds so wrong when you say it~.”

Chisato turned her head, mockingly incensed, “I can say dude.”

“No way~ no way~.”

Chisato puffed up her chest and summoned all the strength of every beach bum who’d ever tried and failed to surf into her voice. “Cowabunga. Dude.”

“I hate that so much,” Moca said with a giant grin that said otherwise.

“Dude, it’s like totally tubular!”

“Who are yooou?” They fell back on the bed as Moca pulled Chisato down—half on top of Moca, half falling off the bed. Chisato rolled around, settling her head on Moca’s chest.

“Miss?” She asked, looking up at Moca’s turned face.

“Bleh.”

“Ma’am.”

“Bleeeeeeh.”

“Madam?”

Moca lifted her head with an eyebrow raised so high it almost left her face. “That makes me sound like a 19th century brothel owner. _Madam._ ”

Chiasto’s lips curled at the word. “I sort of like it. For myself that is.”

“Oh.” She gulped. “Moca will remember that.”

“Sir?” Chisato spun a lengthy strand of Moca’s hair around her finger.   
Moca’s voice grew quiet. “Come on. No one’s ever gonna look at me and think ‘sir’.”

She rubbed the soft hair between her thumb and forefinger. Even if that was true, “miss” and “ma’am” didn’t suit Moca. If “sir” was the only other option… “I want to know what you like.” Chisato looked up to Moca. “Not what you think someone will call you.”

Her hand flexed over Chisato’s back. That hesitation again. “I… you don’t have to…”

“I want to. I want to know what you want. And I don’t want to hurt you.” It was too sincere to say to Moca’s face so she whispered it into her chest. “Even accidentally.”

Warm, comforting lips kissed the crown of her head. “Okay.”

“So, tell me what you want, _sir._ ”

“Chisaaatooo,” Moca moaned, dragging every syllable out until they screamed for mercy. “If you say something like that… Moca’ll lose it.”

Good, Chisato thought to herself, tucking away every little factoid she was learning for later. “Just one more set. Pronouns.”

Moca flinched.

“Is there a problem? _Sir_?”

“…Green.”

Chisato tried to cover her relieved sigh with the teasing circles she drew with her pointer finger. “He/Him?”

“No thanks.” Instant.

“She/Her?”

Hesitation. “That’s fine.”

“They/Them.”

Moca didn’t answer and that was answer enough.

Without looking to Moca, Chisato started to hum, “That’s Moca. They’re my partner.” She paused, letting the words sit in the air between them—not that there was much space. Then Chisato pushed herself up and off of Moca’s chest, just enough that she could look Moca in the eye and know for certain.

“I love them very much.”

It was like watching Moca breathe fresh air for the first time after a lifetime of pollution. How could Chisato do anything but kiss them?

When they parted there was only one thing Chisato had left to ask, not spoken so much as breathed. “My Moca?”

“Always.”

They lay together for a long time, finding that simple peace they longed for in each other.

Even if Chisato couldn’t truly understand, she’d try for her.

For them.

She’d try.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my friends [Demonladys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonladys/pseuds/demonladys) and [Silversilky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silversilky/pseuds/silversilky) for reading this through for me, make sure to check out their Transdori week content. 
> 
> This time the title is from Donna Summers' classic Bad Girls. I first heard this song as a kid on a Rugrats tape where Angelica sang it and I've loved it ever since. I picked it for an obvious reason, a much less obvious reason and because once Moca gets comfortable with their identity they are absolutely gonna loudly sing it, winking at Chisato and saying "Get it, cause Moca's so bad at being a girl!!"
> 
> Moca uses They/Them pronouns now.


End file.
